Lending a Hand
by outoftheashesrising
Summary: After Jean gets shot, Millie lends a hand.


_A flesh wound_. That's what the doctor had called it. _Your friend's a lucky girl, she should be back on her feet in no time. Just a flesh wound._

He wasn't there. He didn't see her fall to the ground, didn't watch the the colour drain from her face, didn't look on in horror as she drifted into unconsciousness. _He wasn't there._

Millie had accompanied Jean in the ambulance. She knew she wasn't allowed, but she climbed in after the stretcher anyway, silently daring either of the young medics to question her as she choked back tears. She sat unmoving, watching as the medic continued to put pressure on her unconscious friend's leg. She'd come to when she'd been transferred to the stretcher, insisting that she could get up and walk to the ambulance herself.

_You can take the girl out of the war…_

If the medics hadn't swiftly intervened, Millie was ready to restrain her friend herself to stop her from injuring herself further. They'd given her something for the pain, and she'd slipped back into unconsciousness shortly after. _At least she's not awake for this godawful trek, _Millie thought to herself as the ambulance shook after encountering yet another bump. She didn't think she'd be able to take seeing Jean in anymore pain than she was already in.

"I'm okay, dearies."

Here she was, lying in a hospital bed with a bullet in her leg and yet she was the one who was calm and collected as she attempted to console her distraught friends.

"It's nothing to worry yourselves over. Just a flesh wound."

Millie could see the pain through her friend's strained smile, could tell that the medication she had been given was wearing off, but chose not to say anything. Her friend was alive, laughing even, and for that she was forever grateful.

Although the doctor had insisted that her injury had been relatively minor, he stressed the importance of Jean not being alone for the first few weeks of her recovery.

"Someone to watch over her and help tend to the household while her husband is at work", the doctor stated in a tone so patronizing Millie nearly lacerated her tongue stopping herself from yelling at the man.

"That won't be a problem." Yelling at the miserable man wouldn't help Jean recover. She couldn't erase what happened, couldn't take away the pain, but she could ensure that her friend received the best damn care possible until she was back on her feet.

"I'll be fine on my own, really."

Well at least we know her mind wasn't affected Millie thought to herself as she prepared to engage in what she hoped would only be a brisk argument with the stubborn woman. "Mrs. Pritchard next door will be in to check on me no doubt, and I have the telephone if there's anything else I require."

"Jean you need someone with you and I'd be more than happy to keep you company. You can stay with me in my flat or I can come to you, it's no problem." Millie hoped that her friend would be quick to see reason, but wasn't surprised when she began to protest.

"There's no need to put you out on my account, and I'm more than capable of taking care of myself thank you."

Millie could tell by her clipped tone that she was under the impression that the conversation was over. But Millie wasn't ready to give up just yet.

"Fine, Let me just grab the doctor and mention to the fine gentleman that you're unable to meet his requirements for discharge. I'm sure he'll be able to find alternative arrangements for you."

"You wouldn't dare." Millie laughed at the older woman's shocked expression, half expecting her to throw herself from the bed in protest.

"I would and you know it" Millie said with a smile. If Jean was going to act like a petulant child, than so could she. She started to walk away from the bed, hoping that the Scottish woman would see reason and she wouldn't have to encounter that insufferable doctor again.

"Millie, wait!" The defeated tone of the older woman was music to her ears. Millie turned around slowly, hiding her growing smirk as best she could.

"If it's not too much trouble, maybe you could stay with me for a day or so? Just until I'm settled?"

"Oh Jean, I thought you'd never ask!"

—

Millie opened the door to the cab and silently offered her arm to the older woman. It was a miracle that Jean had accepted her help getting into the cab in the first place, and Millie wasn't about to press her luck a second time by making a fuss over it. She could see how much her friend was struggling, she didn't need anyone to point it out.

Slowly Jean inched herself off the seat of the cab, careful not to jostle her leg. She accepted Millie's arm, avoiding eye contact with the younger woman as she gingerly rose to her feet. Millie noticed the woman gasp slightly as she put weight on her bad leg, quickly trying to cover up her instinctual grimace. It took everything for Millie not to gasp as well and ask if she was okay, knowing that she would only brush it off. Instead she crouched down and nudged the smaller woman's arm over her shoulder, and gently placed a hand around her ribs. "Shall we?" She stated in the most confident tone she could muster as she encouraged the older woman to take the lead.

—

Millie had never been to Jean's flat before, but she had a vivid picture of what she was expecting. Beige walls, bare save an old family photo, maybe a framed map or two, and drab furniture straight from the 1930s. Her friend was many things, but au courant was not one of them. Millie was reluctant to admit it, but it was one of the things she admired about the woman. Sure, she'd love to see the older woman unbutton a little and let her hair down, but she admired her no-nonsense demeanour. She had principles, and Millie respected that.

Millie prided herself on her usually spot-on instincts, but knew that every so often a situation would occur that she hadn't prepared for. Jean's flat was one of those situations. Millie had to stifle a gasp as she took in the spacious living room, full of ornate, hand carved furniture lit by a brass chandelier. A large, gold accented mirror sat atop a grey mantle, complimenting the champagne wallpaper encompassing the room. It looked like something out of an antiques magazine, not the home of a modest librarian.

"This was my parents' flat" Jean explained softly. "I didn't have the heart to change anything after they died." Millie could tell that Jean was embarrassed, and felt bad that her initial reaction had made the older woman feel as if she had to explain herself.

"It's absolutely regal, darling. Now let's get you settled, shall we?"

—

Jean had directed Millie to the spare room, assuring the younger woman that she was content to sit in her rocking chair and knit as the other woman settled in to what would be her room for the next few days. "I'll call you if I need you dearie."

The room was not nearly as ornately furnished as the living room, but was still a far cry from the younger woman's bohemian bachelor. Millie admired the soft blankets and inviting pillows as she slowly began to unpack her small suitcase, knowing that she would be staying longer than the older woman anticipated, judging by the amount of time and energy it took Jean to climb the four steps up to her flat.

Millie had just finished placing a haphazardly folded cardigan onto the dresser when she heard a crashing noise coming from the living room. Millie's stomach sank as she ran from her room without a second thought, praying that the older woman had simply knocked her cane over or dropped a glass.

"Jean!" The younger woman exclaimed, quickly taking in the site before her as she ran to her fallen friend. The older woman was a few steps away from her rocking chair, lying on her injured leg, her cane a few feet in front of her.

"I'm fine dear, just not as sure on my feet as I used to be" Jean whispered, the pain evident in her voice. Millie noticed that despite her false assurances, the older woman had made no attempts to move from the floor, a fact that frightened the younger woman.

"Just give me a second to catch my breath" Jean stated, patting the younger woman on the shoulder, sensing her concern. Slowly, Jean turned onto her back, and then propped herself up with her elbows, nodding to Millie that she was ready to continue. There were tears in her eyes.

"Why don't I bring you one of the tablets the doctor gave you first? We can take in the lovely view from the floor and give them some time to work before we try again?" The shaking in Millie's voice undermined her attempt at levity. She was terrified to cause her friend more pain, and she was having trouble hiding it.

"Oh I've never had much use for tablets, and I won't have a guest of mine sitting on the floor!" Jean stated briskly as she shifted her weight onto her knees and began leaning forward, grabbing for her cane. Millie watched in horror as Jean gasped, and collapsed forward, her hand grasping at her leg. She would have fallen flat on her face had Millie not lunged coward, catching the older woman in her arms.

"Jean you need to let me help you!"

The older woman was too busy catching her breath to come up with a retort.

"Jean I'm going to go get the tablets, I need you to stay put okay?" Millie pleaded with Jean. She knew the older woman was fiercely independent, a trait she also shared, but she didn't need her friend to require another hospital visit because she was attempting to prove said independence. Jean nodded quickly, the pain evident in her face.

"I'll be right back."

—

After returning the bottle to the cabinet and refreshing her companion's water glass, Millie sat beside Jean on the floor, trying to covertly scan the older woman for any additional injuries.

"You look tired, why don't you go for a rest? You've been up far longer than I have."

_And risk you getting up by yourself again? Not a chance_.

"I'm fine for now, I'd rather stay with you for now."

"I'm not a child that needs minding you know."

Although Millie wanted to respond with _well you're acting like one_, she doubted that it would help the situation. Jean used to be her boss. It didn't take a code breaker to decipher that she was having trouble with the shift in power dynamics. She was used to being in charge, used to being the one taking care of others. I'd likely respond the exact same way, Millie thought to herself.

"I know you're not", Millie started in her deep tone. "But you're my friend." She waited, hoping that Jean wouldn't protest such a title.

She didn't.

"You're my friend and I care about you. And you're in pain." Jean looked as if she was about to protest, but Millie chose to ignore it and continue on.

"You're in pain and you need help. You keep this up and you'll reopen your wound and be back in the hospital by tomorrow. Let me help you and I'll be out of your hair in no time and we can forget this ever happened. Deal?"

Millie wasn't going to take no for an answer, but she thought giving the illusion of choice would at least prevent Jean from throwing her cane at her.

Millie watched as Jean averted her gaze, focusing instead on the fabric of her skirt. The younger woman was starting to worry that she had deeply offended the woman that she cared so much about, until she heard her friend's quiet reply:

"Thank you, Millie."

—

A week had passed and the two women had come up with a routine. Jean would wake in the morning and wash up and get dressed, her outfit and wash basin having been laid out on her bedside table the night before. Millie would wake shortly after, and assist Jean to the washroom and then the kitchen, where Jean would start on breakfast while Millie got herself ready for the day.

Jean was gaining confidence walking with her cane, but still required some additional support to ensure she reached her destination safely. And much to Millie's surprise, Jean would accept her support without complaint. Millie had done some amazing things in the war, had even solved a murder, but somehow earning the trust of the woman she cared most about topped her list of accomplishments.

The two friends spent their days enjoying each other's company. Reminiscing over the war, competing to finish the day's crossword, and as Jean began to ween off her pain medications, partaking in some excellent but extremely potent homemade gin.

Millie had always prided herself in her spontaneity, preferring to see what each day had in store for her. She never subscribed to any particular routine, and she'd never had the desire to start.

But now, as she lay on the sofa, lazily nursing her cup of tea as she watched Jean knit from across the room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she counted her stitches, Millie felt a contentness that she'd been searching for for years.

Yes, Millie thought to herself. _I could get used to this._


End file.
